


The Night Was Also Moist

by jade_maiden_333



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Frottage, M/M, Melodrama, Over the Top, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 09:25:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7839391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jade_maiden_333/pseuds/jade_maiden_333
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas would stop at nothing to get his man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Was Also Moist

The night was dark and stormy, rain pounding against the window like wet, dead fingers begging to be let inside, the blackness around him only disturbed by a flash of lightning. He buried his head in his hands, shivering and flinching when the thunder rolled.

“What have I done?” he murmured to himself, over and over again. “What the hell have I done.”

His head snapped up at the sound. No, not thunder. There was someone outside his door, banging on it hard enough to splinter the wood.

“Sonofabitch, Cas,” his shouts punctuated by the pounding of his fists. “I know you’re in there. Open the damned door!”

Dean. _Of course he’d find me_ , Cas thought. _You can run, but you cannot hide_.

Cas walked with leaden feet to the cabin door, throwing the flimsy deadbolt and letting it fall open. Cold damp air rushed in on Dean’s heels and Cas had only a moment to register the white-hot fury that replaced Dean’s normally placid green eyes. Dean advanced, and straight-arm shoved him back into the room, then finding hands closed around his throat in a vise-like grip, cold and unyielding. He lost his footing and fell back heavily enough to see stars as the back of his head met the hardwood floor. Dean landed on top of him never once losing his hold. Wordlessly, he squeezed and squeezed Cas’ neck, face a mask of misery. Cas scrabbled feebly at Dean’s hands, yet still the room waned, dimming into soft gray, slowing fading until the rain, wind and the cool floor melted away, then---

 _Breathe_. His body told him to breathe. The world swirled back into gradual, painful focus. Cas rolled to his side wheezing, coughing, gossamer strand of spittle reaching for the floor. A long moment passed before he was able to noisily suck in air a lungful of air. He lumbered to his hands and knees, shaken and disoriented. Cas couldn’t remember exactly when Dean loosened his grip. He hadn't put up much of a fight and something about that scared him.

“Fuck.” Dean bit out. He was out of Cas’ immediate line of sight, but Cas didn’t need to see him to hear the pain and anger. He looked up to see Dean pacing back and forth like a caged panther. He kept running his hands through his close-cropped hair. The action looked almost violent. Making another circuit across the room his eyes accidentally landed on Cas and it renewed his agitation.

“Fuck.” he repeated. “You had no right, Cas. No right.”

Cas pushed to his feet, momentary vertigo made him see stars. Still gasping, he made his way to a chair in the kitchenette with as much dignity as he could muster. He fell into the seat, one wary eye on Dean. His neck throbbed but he tried to ignore the tender feeling. He pushed away the thought that Dean very nearly killed him, along with the admission that he likely deserved it.

“I had every right,” he replied hoarsely. “You were making a mistake. You don’t love her.”

Dean glowered, anger still simmering in his eyes, but defeat his slumped shoulders. After a moment he looked away and Cas followed Dean’s gaze as he tracked across the small room to the door, noticing that it hung open, rain and wind cutting a wet swath across the antiquated floor. He walked over and shut it quietly, none of the earlier rage in his actions. With his back to Cas, there was only weariness in his voice.

“You’ll never understand, Cas. I’m not like you. I can’t be what it is that you want me to be.”

“And what do I want you to be?” he asked. “To be happy? Because that’s all I want for you.”

“I can’t do that.”

“I know. That’s why I did it for you.”

“You have no idea what you’ve done. I’m supposed to marry her in two days. She won’t even speak to me. My family, my job...Jesus, everybody knows..”

“I know what I did. I know what it means, and I swear, if I could have done it without hurting anybody, I would have,” Cas lied. He was selfish, desperate. He felt terrified that he would lose Dean and would have burned the world to ash to have him. It was a cold, ugly reality and Dean would see the truth of it in time, but Cas wouldn’t talk about that today. “We needed to move forward, Dean. Now we’re done with it.”

“ _We?_ ” Dean rasped, incredulous. “Since when is there a we? You made this decision. I didn’t want this.”

Cas crossed the room, still unsteady on his feet. He dropped to his knees beside Dean. “You want me.” He peered up at him through long dark eyelashes. Dean’s throat worked as he looked away. “Look at me, Dean. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don’t love me.”

Dean swallowed thickly, studying his hands. He frowned at them, as if just remembering that not five minutes ago he tried to throttle his lover. He was quiet for a very long time. It was premature to claim triumph but Cas began to feel like he’d won. Won Dean.The only person that he'd ever allow himself to love.That was what this had become. A battle against everyone who tried to keep them apart. Even, if it came to it, Dean himself.

Dean pulled himself up, schooling his features into something emotionally vacant. Cas felt the bottom drop out from under him at the sight. Soft green eyes hardening into resolute, brittle decisiveness.

“I don’t,” he said, without emotion. “I don’t love you, Cas.”

There was no other way to interpret that. Yet couldn't make himself believe it. He could no more believe that Dean didn't love him than he could believe that the sun wouldn't rise tomorrow. Cas didn't even try. He simply thought through the mental calculus that ended with getting Dean to believe. More to the point, getting Dean to see that he had no choice but to love him.

“Then go back to her. Tell her that I meant nothing to you,” Cas said, standing up. “And the next time you touch her, convince yourself that it’s not me you feel. When you close your eyes at night, convince yourself it’s not me you dream about,” Cas towered over Dean, and he leaned over into him, so close that they were sharing the same breath. “That when she lays under you, convince yourself that it’s not my face you see.”

Cas straightened. The rain had not let up. It felt as if a thunderhead hung immovable over the cabin just for them, and just beyond the walkway, the moon shone. And that, as they say, was that. He had gambled, and he had lost. Cas didn’t know what he’d do next, but suddenly he knew that whatever it was, he couldn’t do it here, not in this place. Shame and humiliation closed heatedly around him and he wouldn’t breathe. He grabbed his coat, half running, half stumbling to the door. Throwing it open to the inky night, the wind picked up and the odor of ozone filled the darkness. Lightning flashed, blinding them both momentarily, Cas’ silhouette standing in sharp relief to the resonant growl of thunder.

“Cas, wait.” Dean said. Cas froze at the threshold. Rain pelted him, drenching his face, hair, shirt, but he couldn’t feel it. Cas couldn’t feel anything at all. Then Dean was behind him, so close that the hairs on the back of his bruised neck rose. He listened to Dean’s even, controlled breathing even as he held his own breath. _Don’t let me go, Dean Please. Don't let me go._

Seized by the arm, Dean spun him around and in one fluid motion pushing him against the door, slamming it shut. Dean stepped into his space, heedless of Cas’ dripping hair and rain soaked clothing. Cas could feel everything now, how cold his cheeks were and how incredibly warm Dean felt almost pressed against him, arms braced against the door on either side, hemming him in.

“Why couldn’t you have just left it alone, Cas?” Their faces were so close. Dean seemed to be fighting to maintain some composure. Something feral lay just beneath his skin,something eager to claw its way out. If Cas had been a little further away he might not have seen the barely perceptible tremor along Dean’s jaw line, the labored breathing like heavy stones had been heaped upon his chest. Cas realized with startling clarity that this was his last gambit. He and Dean had reached the tipping point. Whatever he said next would surely make or break them.

“I couldn't let it go because I can’t share you with her. I won’t. I want all of you, Dean. You can lie to her, your family, hell, you can lie to the whole goddamn world including yourself, but you’ll never be able to lie to me. You love me. I have your heart, and I’ll be damned if I hand over the rest of you without a fight.”

Cas words hung in the air, suspended tension loud enough to drown out the steady patter of rain, faraway thunder. He caught Dean’s eyes and held them, defiant and lovesick. Dean broke their stare, slowly sliding his eyes down to Cas’ mouth. In the quiet of the small cabin, the sounds of the rain and wind receded, leaving just the two of them, beating hearts and mingled breath. The hurt and hopelessness in Dean’s eyes had dissolved into something more basic. Hunger. Want.

Dean kissed him. Hard, wet, deep kisses. Tongue, breath, a hint of teeth. Dean pressed him against the wall, hands burning a swath of heat down his sides, claiming his hips, fingertips teasing and hands exploring. Cas shivered and thrust his hips into Dean, dizzy at the overload of sensation and desire. He pulled away, gasping for air. He found Dean’s eyes and they were unfocused, lusty. He had to see Dean and more importantly, he wanted Dean to see him. Open, wanting, there for the taking. Dean’s breath was warm, smelling of whiskey and mint. His breathing had become ragged and fast. Their lips crushed together again, sloppy and inelegant, beautiful. Dean kissed him like he couldn’t get enough of him, and Cas lost himself in it.

The world spun and tilted and Cas next felt the biting cold hardness of the floor on his back. Dean was on top of him, for the second time that night at Cas’ throat, though this time pressing kisses into his neck, gripping his wrists and pinning his hands over his head. Cas struggled, not to actually pull free of Dean but to feel Dean’s grip tighten, to feel the weight of the man holding him down.

Not letting him go.

Dean and Cas groped their way through the dark, trying to find each other. They had shed their clothes in spite of the cold, each desperate to feel the others skin. Moonlight illuminated the cabin with the rhythm of the advancing clouds. Dancing shadows undulating bodies in slivers of light.

Cas could only see Dean and he was beautiful. Strong, broad freckled shoulders. Freckled everything. Touching him felt good. It always did. Their cocks slid together, a slow pleasurable scrape and thrust. Testing. Pushing. Dean’s hands closed around their dicks, working them together. Rigid thickness, poking belly and thigh, rolling against each other.

He kissed Cas again, hot and hungry, murmuring nonsense into his mouth. Cas opened up, letting his tongue shove in, letting him explore. Thick fingers dug into Cas’ shoulders, wanting closer. Cas arched into him wordlessly communicating that he would give him anything. Everything. Dean humped furiously. Cas rocked his hips, welcoming the release roiling up inside of him. It was perfect, it was always perfect, and Cas took. Greedily, he took everything.

His breath hitched, and he cried out desperately into Dean’s mouth. Dean returned his kiss with an unexpected urgency, hips jerking. Beasts now, they pounded against each other and then Dean was coming, wet heat spilling and spreading in the spaces between them. He groaned, his hand clenching spasmodically around Cas’ shaft. Cas groaned too, twisted, ground his hips. His balls tightened, his lithe body stretching bow tight, and then sweet singing, electric release.

 

 

 

 

Common sense prevailed and they moved from the floor to the comparatively comfortable sofa. Dean had thrown a log into the fireplace while Cas gathered blankets. Neither had said much after making love. They worked in comfortable silence, and though Cas was anxiously awaiting for the other shoe to drop, he knew that what he and Dean had just done had felt normal. It felt right. In the warmth of the fire, with the soft enduring sound of rain outside, Cas lay with his head on Dean’s chest, listening to the slow rhythm of his heart.

“What are you thinking?” Cas asked into the honey colored hair on his lover's chest.

“I’m working really hard to not think of anything at all.”

Cas didn’t think that that was entirely true, but he let it go. “I’m thinking that I don’t want to leave this room.”

Dean surprised him by laughing. “We’d run out of food.”

“I suppose,” he said, pulling himself up and planting soft kisses along Dean’s jaw line. “Eventually, people would come looking for us.”

“I don’t care,” Dean replied quickly, “let them.” He stared at Cas for a long moment. He opened his mouth to talk, then shut it again. He did this a few times. Watching, Cas fought the urge to tell him that he looked like a gaping fish. Finally seeming to pluck up his courage he said, “You do make me happy, Cas. You always have.”

“But…” Cas said. There was always a but.

“But nothing.” Dean answered. They fell silent, each deep in their own thoughts. Cas wanted to tell him that he loved him. Wanted to beg him not to leave but he had already gone too far. If they were going to move forward together, Dean would have to close the distance.

“Cas.” he murmured.

“Hmmm?”

“You were right,” he hesitated. “about what you said before.”

Hearing the seriousness in his voice, Cas stiffened, bracing himself to hear Dean say that he was leaving. This time for good.

“I was wrong. I told you that I can’t be what you need me to be. That’s not true.” his voice lowered. “I’m afraid, Cas. I’m afraid that I’ll let you down.”

Lifting his face towards Dean he responded fiercely, “You could never let me down. Never.”

“I already have,” he said, shame coloring his brow. “I lied to you. At least I tried to.”

“Dean--”

“--When I said that I didn’t love you,” he plunged ahead. “I lied, Cas. I love you. So much.”

“I know.”

They kissed again. It wasn't the end of things. Cas knew how many bridges he had burned to get to this moment, but he didn't care. He had Dean, and that was all that mattered.

“So. What happens next?”

Dean sighed, looking at Cas nervously. “That depends on whether you can help me out, here.” he replied.

“Anything, Dean,” he said. “What do you need?” “Well, I have this ring, you see…”

Cas absently touched the mottled finger-shaped bruises encircling his neck. Smiling to himself he mused, _So do I, Dean. So do I._


End file.
